Everything That Disappeared
by WeirdWingedDaydreamingBookworm
Summary: In which an ouija board plays a much greater role in Makoto's life than it should have. Which proves to be pretty unlucky for a ceratin ghost that watches him grow up. [Oneshot. Onesided!MakoHaru, mentions of MakoRin. Based on a tumblr prompt. Genre says Angst, but it's not really proper Angst. Complete.]


**A/N: **I felt like crap and needed to write. And then I found this tumblr blog with OTP/OT3 prompts and my first Free! fic was born.

**Original prompt: **Person A is a ghost. One day when Person B is bored, they decide to play with a ouija board and meet A. A and B talk a lot and eventually A falls in love with B, but is forced to watch as B falls for Person C (someone else you ship with B or your NoTP.) Bonus: Years later B is cleaning out some of their old things and finds the ouija board. Nostalgically, they open it up and wind up talking to A.

I kinda played with it, and note that while the beggining is quite cheerful, it gets a bit sadder later on. Not as much as I originally planned, but each to their own, maybe someone will actually get their heartstrings pulled. Also, I am aware that Japanese don't use the western alphabeth, but for the sake of the story, let's just pretend they do.

**Warnings: **First Free! fic, English is not my first language (so pardon any stupid mistakes, although pointing them out would be appreciated), kinda sad, but nothing too extreme, gayness (should that even be a warning in this fandom?).

* * *

><p>When one is still in early, innocent years of their life, there are many small, seemingly insignificant things that can make their eyes glisten with that sort of childish excitement we often regret not being able to feel later.<p>

Soft grass and soap bubbles and splashes of water. Bright orange when the sun is setting and the sound of cicadas in the humid summer nights, when it is just warm enough for your shirt to cling slightly to your shoulders. Ice cream and white sand and first friends. And, of course, those little mysteries that make your inexperienced self feel scared and stare in awe at the same time.

So it was no wonder that when Mrs. Tachibana first took four years old Makoto to their house's attic, he clung to her skirt and refused to let go.

It was, all in all, a wonderful thing, having an attic, a courtesy of owning a family house. All the boxes laying in the quiet and the dust floating in the sunlight coming from a single window. The magical feeling of loneliness.

"It's where we keep our memories", Mrs. Tachibana said.

Makoto dug his head out of her calf to look around for three point twenty five seconds, make a startled noise similar to a scared intake of air, and then return himself to the previous position, making his mother laugh. "There is someone here", he mumbled.

A hand came to rest on his head. "Sweetie, look around. There is no one but us."

Daring another glance, Makoto scanned the wooden floor and walls, and then insisted, "There is."

"Really? And where is that?"

Makoto looked around some more. "I… I don't know", he said, looking much less confident now that he had convinced himself there was actually no material proof to back up his statement. "I can just feel it", he admitted quietly.

With a fond look on her face, Mrs. Tachibana crouched next to him. "Maybe you are just sensing friendly ghosts."

"Ghosts?!" Makoto jumped, now feeling thoroughly scared.

"Calm down!" Some more laughing. "I was just joking. It is something your grandmother used to say. She was always telling these amazing stories about house ghosts and their adventures. I loved those stories." She smiled somewhat sadly. "When I was your age, I used to always look at an ouija board we had. I never dared to use it, though. I was scared something would go wrong. And I was also scared that her stories might prove to not be true."

"Ouija… board?"

"Well, it is basically just a board with some letters and numbers on it, but it is believed that one should be able to use it to communicate with those who have passed away."

Makoto bowed his head. "You mean… with those who… died?"

"… Yes. In fact," she said, getting up and dusting off her legs for a distraction, "I think we still have ours somewhere here." She stopped short and looked at her son. "Do you want to see?"

Makoto was not sure did he want to see or not. It might be fitting to say that curiosity got better of him, but that was not really the case, because Makoto could swear, even years later, that, as stupid as it sounds, he felt something (and whether that something was actually a certain someone, he never got around to concluding) push him towards his mother, which she, expectedly, interpreted as a 'yes'.

So they spent the afternoon doing what they were supposed to be doing in the first place – searching the boxes and categorizing the stuff they found. His mother wanted to declutter, and as his father was working, she enlisted his humble (he was four, after all) help. He could run from one crate to the other, though, which basically summarized their work to Mom going through all the garbage and not garbage that was put away there during the years and Makoto leaving them on appropriate piles. The only difference from their original plan was that Mom promised to show him the board when they found it, and not just tell him to put it somewhere like she probably intended before.

So when she finally raised it with a triumphant cry at about four p.m., Makoto was already pretty anxious. He practically expected the surprisingly ordinary wooden case to explode into a mush of ectoplasm (or he would've, if he knew what ectoplasm was then), although a voice in his head was telling him that was ridiculous. You never knew.

It turned out ouija board was, de facto, a normal board. Somewhat paled from the years of lying in the dust, but a normal board just like his mother had said, and Makoto couldn't quite explain what was the weird mix of relief and disappointment that he was feeling.

His mother sat still for a moment, studying it. "You know, I don't think I would use it now. It kinda lost its appeal to me. There are a lot of adults who would, but… I have too much of a stable life now to lead a new element into it. Not sure I'd want to, actually." She looked up at Makoto, who was standing there somewhat confused, and smiled. "You probably don't know what I'm talking about right now, but… Well. Ghosts are, in the end, just that. More or less faded memories."

And back then, Makoto really didn't know what she meant. He only found out later.

* * *

><p>They worked a few more days up there, until it was weekend and Makoto's dad took the role of Mom's official helper upon himself. The board was put on the 'keep' pile because Mrs. Tachibana, whatever she might've said to Makoto that day, still couldn't bring herself to throw it away, and for some time, Makoto forgot about it.<p>

Until about a year later, when he somehow ran out of wonders to explore and his pre-mentioned curiosity kicked in full force, inevitably leading the ouija board to his mind.

It was summer, the one that brings the bright orange and cicadas and humidity, and his parents were downstairs watching some TV show on the couch. His dad had his arm draped over his mother's shoulders, something Makoto didn't know to appreciate as anything back then. Anyhow, they seemed pretty engaged in what they were doing, so Makoto figured he would be left alone for some time. He climbed the leader to the attic with some difficulty, opening the floor door amazingly quietly. Even if you asked him, though, he wouldn't know to say why was it that he didn't want to be found out. He was sure his parents wouldn't really be angry, but for some reason, he wanted to keep this to himself.

He hasn't visited the attic since his last encounter with the board, but it resembled his recollection nicely, even though the boxes were stacked against the walls more neatly, with inscriptions indicating their content, there was less dust and a small table now adorned the middle of the room.

Wiggling inside the whole way, Makoto closed the door behind him, and then proceeded to roam around. He didn't know what all the etiquettes said yet, so he had to consult the more primitive method of peering inside every box to find out what was inside. Some were too heavy for him to lift and look into the ones below, but when he got through about half a room worth of old toys, family pictures and baby clothes, he finally found what he was looking for. Shaking a bit as he reached a hand inside, the same limb stopped about five centimeters from the casing. For some time, Makoto contemplated just closing the box and going away, but even at that young age, he wasn't a quitter. So, mustering all the determination a kid can have, he grabbed the case, ran to the table, opened it and pulled the board out.

There was a moment of complete silence as Makoto stared at one of wonders of childhood imagination. As mentioned, he didn't know how to read properly, but his mother had pointed out what certain things on the board meant, and Makoto vividly remembered everything she conveyed to him. He spread the board on the flat surface, feeling quite content with himself. The little hero fit right then gave him some more confidence, and, in a moment of great courage (and maybe silliness), he grabbed the planchette and called, "Is somebody there?"

Now you could say that Makoto, despite the excitement about the idea and the adrenaline caused by the feeling he was doing something forbidden, didn't really expect any literal ghost to reply to this. So, when, in a rush of tingles, his hand moved toward what Makoto for a fact knew was _Yes_, he did what every reasonable person in his situation would do.

He screamed his lungs off.

Throwing the planchette in a random direction, he scrambled toward the door and rushed straight to his room, barricading himself and proceeding to convince his utterly confused parents that he fell off his bed.

And then, later in the day, he asked his mother to teach him how to read.

* * *

><p>After initial surprise and a few days of hard work, Makoto knew how most of the capital letters looked like, and was completely equipped to make another delegation to the attic. He didn't know why or how, but something that wasn't even the fame he could gather because of his courageous antics just kept pushing him to the loft. He also concluded he should make sure that that one time before wasn't "his mind subconsciously telling his hand to move, which can happen when one wants to avoid the disappointment caused by something one believes should happen not happening", according to his mother, which she later explained meant that he might have just done it himself.<p>

The board was still where he left it, aka its pieces all over the small space. He picked them up and placed the planchette between what he now knew was an A and another letter he wasn't so sure about. Suppressing the urge to run away again, he took a deep breath and repeated the same question from a few days before: "Is somebody there?"

Nothing moved at first. Makoto waited for five, ten, fifteen seconds. And then, very slowly, like it wanted to make sure he won't be scared, his hand slid to _Yes_.

All of Makoto's fear disappeared. He could only feel something akin to joy right then and there, so much of it that he dropped the planchette once more and started hopping on the spot singing about how it was all real. He did soon remember his parents might hear him, and that it is also pretty impolite to just ignore the person you're talking to (because he now knew he was talking to somebody), so he quickly slid back into place and took the planchette in his hands. "Um, I'm sorry", he said, blushing slightly because of his embarrassing actions. "For this now. And for running off like that the other day. I… I just never talked to a… ghost before." Part of him still couldn't believe what was happening, but then his hand started moving and everything else disappeared from his brain. He couldn't quite decipher the whole sentence his hand made, but from the context, he figured it was something along the lines of _It's okay_.

"Oh, so you're not mad then?"

His hand moved to _No_.

"Wow, great. I was really scared you would hate me now."

His hand didn't move, so after a minute Makoto asked, "Wait, are you the same ghost from before?"

_Yes._

That was a relief. His mother mentioned there can be several souls contacting him through the same board, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that.

"So, uh… Is it okay to ask what your name is?"

His hand spelled a word Makoto presumed was a name. Problem? There was that one spiky letter he didn't know to read. So, to him, the word looked like _Haru...a_.

"Um", Makoto said. "Ha… Haru. Haru-chan?"

His hand spelled the same word again.

"Haru-chan?" Makoto repeated.

The process went along a couple more times, and then after Makoto's, "Haru-chan?" his hand didn't move. Makoto started panicking, thinking he had done something to offend Haru-chan, but then his hand slid to _Yes_.

"Haru-chan!" Makoto cried. "So, you are a girl?"

_No._

"Oh, I see, you just have a girly name then? I do, too! I'm Makoto, by the way."

It was apparent the ghost had nothing to say to that, so after a while, Makoto got up, bowed and said, "Nice to meet you!"

He just wanted to ask Haru if he had done the same, but his mother called for lunch and Makoto jumped toward the door. Before his head vanished in the floor, he smiled to the board and said, "See you later, Haru-chan."

* * *

><p>Over the next few weeks, Makoto's reading became better, and he was still working on it every day in hopes of being able to talk to Haru and understand everything he says. Or, well, writes. Or points at. Through his hand.<p>

There wasn't really much conversation at first, because Makoto didn't know what to talk about, and Haru seemed like a quiet sort of guy. So it was mostly silence on his behalf and awkward silence on Makoto's. Eventually, Makoto just started chatting about whatever was happening at the moment that was interesting to him, saying things like, "I went to the harbour today, you know. I've been visiting for quite a while now. There is a really kind old fisherman there, and he always talks to me. He even took me to his boat and showed me all the things there!" Or, "I was helping Mom in the garden yesterday, and she started talking about how nice it is that I'm learning to read, although she still doesn't understand why I wanted to. But I could never tell her about you. I don't think she would believe me."

Haru, all the same, wasn't saying a lot, but after some time, Makoto managed to somehow almost sense what he was thinking. He understood he was just like that – he didn't like unnecessary words. He knew Haru wanted to be there, as he actually seemed to enjoy their talks, and one sided interaction was fine with Makoto as long as there was any interaction at all. And it was about then when Makoto's life became significantly subjectable to the influence of someone that wasn't even alive anymore.

* * *

><p>Summer rolled pass and November came, and one day Makoto announced, "It's my birthday tomorrow."<p>

_Happy birthday._

"Thanks, Haru. Hey, you never told me when your birthday is."

There was a long silence, and Makoto already started wondering has Haru left before his hand suddenly moved. _June 30__th__._

"So it already passed! And you haven't told me! That can't be right. Say, how old are you, Haru-chan?"

_Ghosts don't age, Makoto. _

Makoto cocked his head to the side. "Oh. Well, how old were you when you… you…?" He didn't dare finish the sentence.

… _I was 17. _

"So that means you are also 17 now, right?"

_I guess._

"17 it is."

* * *

><p>Makoto usually just left the board open, but after some time, he started fearing that someone would find it. His parents almost never climbed up there, but there was still a possibility, the cleaning trip from a year ago a perfect example. So every evening, after he bid Haru good night, he carefully stored it in its previous abode. It was a while since he looked at any of the boxes when he first did it, so he took enjoyment in being able to read every single label. Interested in what did the board's box said, he strolled to the corner where it stood and kneeled. It was mostly full of his mother's old things, so it was, he thought later, incredibly appropriate what it read: <em>Everything that disappeared<em>.

* * *

><p>When Makoto first started school, he made sure that the first thing he did after he came back home was to tell Haru about everything that happened that day. He told him about how he made friends ("Nagisa is really energetic, you know, although he is sometimes a bit too much."), how languages became his forte ("And it's all thanks to Haru-chan, because I learned the letters early."), except maybe English ("I just don't understand it!"), and how the school had a pool, which was something he really enjoyed.<p>

_I used to swim._

Makoto paused in the middle of whatever it was he was saying to look at the letters his hand was showing. "Really, Haru-chan?"

_Yes._

"You mean you swimmed in competitions and everything?"

_I only swim free._

Makoto smiled. "That somehow sounds like you."

… _Yeah._

* * *

><p>"We got a new student today!"<p>

_Really?_

"Yeah! His name is Rin. He has a girly name like you and me and Nagisa. He seems nice."

_How can you know he is nice on the first day you met him?_

"I dunno. I just have a feeling."

…

* * *

><p>"Rin wants to swim in a relay."<p>

_I see. _

"I think we should do it. Rin is very good at butterfly, and Nagisa can swim the breaststroke." Makoto smiled briefly. "Too bad you aren't with us, Haru-chan."

_I only swim free. _

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

><p>"Haru-chan?"<p>

_Yes, Makoto?_

"Can you… see me?"

…

"I mean, I can't see you, but… I was wondering…"

_I can. _

"Really? And what do I look like?"

_You look… _

And Makoto was sure that if he could also see Haru, he would be blushing. He laughed. "It's okay, you don't have to answer that."

* * *

><p><em>What is that?<em>

Makoto looked at a piece of paper he was holding. It was pretty late, but recently Makoto has developed a habit of coming to the attic during the night. "It is an assignment we had to do for school. It's for Art. We needed to draw something precious to us, and I tried, but… " He laughed. "I think I'm not very good at Art."

Silence.

"Haru?"

_Take a pencil._

Makoto looked at the board, confused. "What?"

_Just do it. _

Makoto wasn't clear on what was going on, but he did as Haru instructed anyway. He positioned the paper on the table and took a pen. He could almost see Haru studying the drawing. "Those are Nagisa, Rin and me", he explained, pointing to the figures. "Because friendship is something precious to me."

_Do you have their pictures?_

"Yes, why?"

_Bring them. _

Starting to realize where Haru was going with that, Makoto ran to his room, only to come minutes later with some photos in his hands. "This one is Nagisa", he said, pointing. "And this is Rin. He has really weird teeth."

_I see. Put your hand to the paper. _

Makoto listened. It didn't take long for what he was expecting to happen. The familiar feeling of his hand moving on its own accord washed over him, only this time it was flowing over the paper. Haru made him keep his other hand on the board anyway, so he could give instructions like, _Now we need yellow_, and, _Move it a bit to the left_. Haru didn't talk a lot about himself in general, and Makoto soon saw that one of the things he forgot to mention was how good he was at drawing. They were over too soon (because Makoto actually enjoyed the feeling of his hand sliding across the paper, creating something he wouldn't know to create himself), and Makoto, after complimenting about a thousand times and Haru waving it off, frowned. "Haru", he said.

_Yes?_

"Could you… add something?"

_And what is that? _

"You."

The next day, Makoto came home and told Haru that everybody wanted to know who the boy with black hair and blue eyes was, and that his drawing was officially voted the best in their class.

* * *

><p>"Hey, remember that fish I was telling you about?"<p>

_The ones that fisherman gave you?_

"Yeah."

_I remember. _

"Well, it's kinda funny, but… they died."

_Makoto… I'm sorry._

"No, it's okay. I said it was funny, they actually lived really long, but I just feel like I don't have anything left from him now, you know?"

…

"Oh God, sorry, Haru. I'm probably really insensitive right now, just talking about whatever I want wi – "

_Make them a grave. _

"What?"

_Make them a grave. That's the least you can do. And that way, they will always be respected and close to you. _

"That… isn't such a bad idea. Yes. Yeah, I might do that."

For a moment, none of them said anything. And then, "Haru… where is your grave?"

There was one of those long silences then, the ones Makoto learned were Haru contemplating should he answer him or not. This time was slightly different, though. It was as if he wanted to tell him, but just didn't know how.

_Somewhere you can't go to._

* * *

><p>"It's been four months now. God, it flew past."<p>

_You still have plenty of time to get used to it._

"I know. But it is just… what if I don't know what to do? What if I screw something up? "

_You won't._

"And I won't be seeing so much of you, either. My parents will probably want to search this place for some of my old things. And there will be a lot of crying at night, and I don't want to risk them going past my room and seeing I'm not there."

_That's okay… I'll survive. _

Makoto laughed.

_Makoto._

"Yes?"

_You're going to be a good older brother._

"Thanks, Haru."

* * *

><p>"Haru?"<p>

_Yes?_

"No, it's nothing. But… Haru?"

_Yes, Makoto?_

"No, I mean, I was just wondering… Haru?"

By then, Makoto could hear in Haru's nonexistent voice that he was getting tired of this. _Yes, Makoto?_

"How did you die?"

One of the longest silences until then occurred. Makoto knew enough to sense that Haru hasn't left, and it wasn't exactly an uncomfortable situation, but it just felt like something was off. "You don't have to tell me", he hurriedly said. "I mean, it's just something that has been on my mind for a while, and I was thinking that maybe – "

_I drowned._

Makoto couldn't force his jaw to stay closed. "But, you are such an amazing swimmer!"

_You don't know that. Have you ever seen me swim?_

"Well, no, but it's just the way you talk about it. Like you love it more than anything else. When you swim, you are", he paused to smile, "free."

_I don't love it more than anything else. Although it is near the top of the list, yes. And I will admit it is ironical. But one night, I went to swim in the sea. Nobody saw the storm coming. That's why you can never go to my grave. It is pretty inaccessible. _

"Haru… "

_It's okay, Makoto. I'm quite alright, as you see. I didn't tell you until now because I thought it might remind you of something painful. _

"I would still want to hear it, though."

_Now you know._

"Yeah. And Haru? What is that one thing you love more than swimming?"

_Maybe you'll find out one day. _

* * *

><p>"Rin is leaving."<p>

_What? Why? _

"He is going to Australia. To practice swimming. He just told us today. He leaves in a week."

Silence.

"I don't know why I feel so bad about it. He said he would write. And he will be back for holidays."

Silence.

"But I don't want him to go. I really don't."

This time, however, no matter how long Makoto waited, there was no answer.

* * *

><p><em>How was your holiday?<em>

"It was good. The twins really enjoyed it, playing in the sand and everything."

_I'm glad._

"I can feel you smiling."

_I'm not smiling. _

"You are."

_Am not. _

"Okay, now you're pouting."

… _I spend too much time with you. _

Makoto laughed. "Maybe. Anyway, holiday was good, except I couldn't swim. I missed it."

_What about the ocean?_

"Well, I am kinda afraid of it."

_Makoto… yo – _

"I just feel like… " Makoto interrupted a bit louder than it was necessary. "I feel like I've already lost two of you in it", he whispered.

The silence was long, but Makoto believed that it was not, for a change, because Haru chose not to speak, but because he didn't know what to say.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe I'm starting high school tomorrow."<p>

_Yeah. _

Makoto looked at the ouija board with fondness. They have refreshed the paint a long time ago, as well as added some of Haru's most used words and phrases, like, _Makoto_,_ I only swim free_, and _Water_.

"Wow. Do you believe how long we've been friends?"

_Well, eternity is a long time. _

"That reminded me. Why is it, exactly, that it is always you I contact through the board? I mean, not that I mind, but it's been years. I didn't even question it before because it was so normal to me, but… why?"

_You don't know?_

"I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

He could hear Haru sigh.

* * *

><p>"So something weird happened today."<p>

_Hm?_

"A girl asked me out."

_And what did you say?_

"I said no. I know it might be cruel, but I just don't like her that way. And lying to her and pretending I do would be much crueler than that."

If Makoto was already recording their conversations back then, he would've heard, if listening closely, Haru mumbling, "Got what she deserved."

* * *

><p>"Haru! You will never believe me what happened!"<p>

_Rin returned._

"Rin retur – Wait, how did you know?"

_You seem happy._

"I'm often happy. About things that have nothing to do with Rin."

_This is a different sort of happy. _

"If you say so."

* * *

><p>"Have you heard that if you record yourself using an ouija board, you might hear the ghost's voice?"<p>

_Yes. _

"Really? Why haven't you told me about it sooner? I want to hear Haru-chan's voice."

_Fine. And drop the –chan. _

* * *

><p><em>Makoto.<em>

"Yes, Haru?"

_Do you know you have a good smile?_

"Eh, really?"

_Yeah. It's a great smile. _

"Uh, thanks."

_Makoto._

"Hm?"

_Promise me something. _

"Anything."

_Promise me that smile is mine. _

Makoto was confused only for a minute, before he smiled that said smile at the board and said, "I promise."

* * *

><p>"Haru, I – "<p>

_You think you're in love with Rin. _

"Yeah, but – "

_But you're not sure is that okay. _

"That's right, but how – "

_It is perfectly fine, Makoto._

"… Really?"

_Yeah. _

Silence.

"How old were you when you first fell in love, Haru-chan?"

_17. I was 17. _

* * *

><p><em>Makoto, what is in the left part of your chest?<em>

"Um, my heart. Why?"

_Is that the thing that can beat really hard and also crush into thousand little pieces?_

"That's exactly it, yes."

_Though so._

* * *

><p><em>Won't you be late?<em>

"Oh God, you're right! Sorry, Haru-chan! See you later!"

It was only when Makoto came back home from his first date with Rin and listened to his and Haru's last recorded conversation that he noticed something unusual and went to the attic to check. And sure enough, the planchette was seated on one word on the board Makoto has never seen Haru point at in all the years of knowing him.

_Goodbye. _

* * *

><p>And then was when everything changed. Makoto's dates with Rin became more frequent, and his 'dates' with Haru less frequent. At first, he was worried, telling Haru that he would talk to him as much as he wanted as soon as he found time, and then he just sort of… stopped. Stopped paying attention, being there, being his. Not that Haru could blame him. All the childhood excitement has long disappeared from his eyes. And ghosts were, in the end, just that. More or less faded memories.<p>

"We've come a long way, you and I. Haven't we, Haru?"

_Yes, yes, we did. _

* * *

><p><strong>~An unimportant amount of time later~<strong>

"Makoto! Oi! Hurry up! I'm not waiting for you to get your lazy butt downstairs for another half an hour!"

From somewhere higher than the shouter's position, Makoto's recognizable laugh was heard. "Don't worry, I'll be down in a minute!"

He could tell Rin was getting impatient, but there was no real threat of him actually leaving before Makoto, which was something Rin constantly seemed to be forgetting Makoto knew about.

Besides, it was not as there was a lot left to do. He just needed to get some stuff from the attic and they will be ready to go move in their new flat.

As he was digging through some old clothes there were put in a pile there, however, something caught his eye. There was a box, crammed in the corner of the room, with a faded inscription on it, a box that was calling to him.

So he crossed the room, as if in a trance, took it out of the crook, and opened it. There, lying on top of one another, were tape after tape after tape, all marked with dates and a word or a sentence that the one who wrote them considered best conveyed its epitome. Makoto removed layers of them, looking at the cases, and then suddenly stopped and disappeared downstairs. He returned moments later with a tape player, and then proceeded to get one out and pop it inside, the recorded voices immediately clearing why it was called _Bears eat leaves_.

"Why are you helping me with this, again?"

_Because you suck. _

"I can just ask Rin. He is good in English."

_No. Go. _

He could hear his younger self sighing. "Fine. 'When bearu its hani, bees getto mado.'"

_Kinda. And what does that mean?_

"Um… When bear has eat leaves, bees target prospect?"

His present form laughed at the same time as the other voice.

He popped that one out and put another one in, listening and repeating the same process over and over again. Some were funny, some were kinda sad, but the more he listened, the more he felt like some gap was being closed.

* * *

><p>"Why are people so scared of me sometimes?"<p>

_You mean, because you are actually scared of other people?_

"Haru!"

_It's because you are just built that way._

* * *

><p>"So I got my glasses today."<p>

_I see. They suit you. _

"I feel weird with them on."

_You'll get used to it. _

* * *

><p>"Contacts are weird. And you have no idea how much it hurts the first time you put them in."<p>

_I think you looked better with glasses on._

Laughter. "You'll get used to it."

* * *

><p>When he got through a significant amount of them, his fingers scraped against something else, which was much bigger and much more solid. He pulled it out, took it out of its casing, and flattened it out on the desk, looking at the written phrases. And then he took the planchette, and, as he did the fist time all those years ago, he called, "Is somebody there?"<p>

Nothing. Makoto waited, and he almost thought nothing was gonna happen. The problem? He knew him too well for that.

So, after Makoto experienced what was eternity himself, his hand moved. _Took you long enough. _

And then Makoto smiled, smiled that familiar smile that Rin has also probably seen by now, but that was His and will always be His, because Makoto promised it would be. "Hey, Haru-chan."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Before anyone goes gaga over this in the comments, I would like to say that I spent a generous amount of time thinking over who should be dead and who should be alive. Makoto obviously had to be the middle man, because I can't stand RinHaru and because his somewhat oblivious personality is the best for that. And I don't see Rin as a ghost. Sorry. Otherwise I did try to keep this as canon as possible, and I paid attention to the dates of their birthdays and the times things in their lives when things happened and Japanese customs and so on.

Anyhow! How was this? Should I write more Free! or should I just go hide myself under a rock? And holy crackers, I think this is the longest chapter I've ever written, or at least close to it. I… I don't know what came over me. I apologize.


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